Dauntless with Caleb
by Anonymous Kay
Summary: The truth about what Caleb got on his Aptitude test and a choice changed. He did not choose Erudite... He chose Dauntless. Experience as Caleb journeys with Beatrice/Tris through Initiation. And there is no war. By: Anonymous Kay and based on Another Choice By: OnCloudTen. I DO NOT OWN DIVERGENT! RE-UPLOADED!
1. Chapter 1

Dauntless

Aptitudes and Choosing

Authors Note

Anonymous Kay

 _Hey Guys... If you like this story you'll also adore "_ _ **Another Choice**_ _"_ _By:_ _OnCloudTen_ _. Please continue. I do not own Divergent –Kay? Get it. Got it. Good. Also to check out is "_ _ **The Land of No Return Slow Updates**_ _"_ __ _By:_ _EndlessWolves_ _._

 **Caleb's P.O.V.**

The bus we take to get to the choosing ceremony is full of people. In grey shirts and grey slacks. A pale ring of sunlight burns into the clouds like the end of a lit cigarette. I will never smoke one myself - they are closely tied to vanity - but a crowd of Candor smokes them in front of the building when we get off the bus.

I have to tilt my head back to see the top of the Hub, and even then, part of it disappears into the clouds. It is the tallest building in the city. I can see the lights on the two prongs on its roof from my bedroom window.

I follow my parents off the bus. Beatrice seems calm, but I'm not. I still remember my results.

 **Flashback Start**

I step into the Aptitude Test room. Mirrors cover the inner walls of the room. I can see my reflection from all angles. The grey fabric obscuring the shape of my back. My dark hair, hooked nose, green eyes, and dimpled cheeks. When I was younger, that collection of features looked strange, but now it suits me.

The ceiling glows white with light. In the center of the room is a reclined chair, like a dentist's, with a machine next to it. It looks like a place where terrible things happen.

"Don't worry," a woman says by the side of the room manning a device. It looks like a simulation device I read about in my books. "It doesn't hurt!" She didn't even glimpse up. She seems to be an Erudite since she's wearing a blue dress and hairclip.

"My name is Cara! Have a seat." She says. "My brothers choosing this year."

"Oh... my sisters choosing this year. I'm five months older." I say.

I sit down an put my head back. I'm not scared. But I can't help wondering about her brother. I try and think about my future to distract myself from the cold of the wire she's putting on herself and me.

"Drink this!" She passes meeting a vial of clear liquid. "Bottoms up!"

I drink it before I can show my curiosity.

I open my eyes and I am in the cafeteria. It's empty though. On a table in front of me I see two baskets. One holds cheese and the other holds a drink. Outside it is snowing.

Behind me a woman's voice says "Choose."

I turn around and see a dog. "That's an Omega Lupus Dominiancas! When it sees a human it turns aggressive because it's scared so it protects himself." I lay on the ground and lowered my eyes off his to show I wasn't a threat. When he calmed down I grabbed the cheese and threw it to him. Suddenly he was like a puppy. Then I saw a little Abnegation kid come in and the dog turned aggressive.

I turn around and grab the knife to kill it to save the kid. Then I turn around and I'm at the testing room, now empty. I turn in a slow circle and can't see myself in any of the mirrors. I push the door open and walk into the hallway, but it's not the hallway; it's a bus, and all the seats are taken.

I stand in the aisle and hold on to a pole. Sitting near me is a man with a newspaper. I can't see his face over the top of the newspaper, but I can see his hands. They are scarred, like he was burned, and they clench around the paper like he wants to crumple it.

"Do you know this guy?" he asks. He taps the picture on the front page of the newspaper. The headline reads: "Brutal Murderer Finally Apprehended!" I stare at the word 'Murderer'. It's been a long time since I read that word but I still feel the dread in my gut. I feel like I know him, though how I don't know.

"Well?" I hear anger in his voice. "Do you?"

"Yes. I think I've seen him before!" I answered truthfully.

The man looks at me and smiles evilly. He had a beard that was shaved off and wore sunglasses. His face was covered in scars.

"If I told you that was me, would you turn me in to stop a war, even if you lost your own life doing so?" He spits at me. His voice smelling like cigarettes.

I lock my eyes square in his and say one word!

"Yes!"

I wake to see Cara's surprised face. She gets up and takes off the wires on me and her.

"I am now manually entering Abnegation." She says.

I look at her surprised. Did I fail? How can I fail a test I wasn't allowed to prepare for? As the seconds pass of her not explaining I get more and more nervous. She finally turns around and looks into my eyes. I sit up because I know she wants to talk to me.

"Your results were inconclusive. Typically, at each stage of the simulation eliminates one or more factions, but in your case none have been ruled out." She explains.

I stare at her. "N-n-n-none?" I ask. My throat is so tight it's hard to talk.

"You first before proceeding started off by showing Erudite knowledge. Then you selected the cheese. That shows Amity. Dauntless are the only ones to kill the dog. That was very Dauntless of you. Then I had to alter it to check if your Candor. Which when you told the truth showed you were Candor. You killed the dog to save the girl which showed a lot of Abnegation. And telling the Truth was Abnegation. So your Abnegation." She says calmly.

She's calm and I'm hyperventilating.

 **Flashback Over**

The elevator is crowded, so my father volunteers to give a cluster of Amity our place. We climb the stairs instead, following him unquestionably. We set example for our fellow faction members, and soon the four of us are engulfed in the mass of gray fabric ascending cement stairs in the half light. I settle into their pace. The uniform pounding of feet in my ears and the homogeneity of the people around me makes me believe that I could choose this. I could be subsumed into Abnegation's hive mind, projecting always outward.

But then my legs get sore, and I struggle to breathe, and I am again distracted by myself. We have to climb twenty flights of stairs to get to the Choosing Ceremony.

My father holds the door open on the twentieth floor and stands like a sentry as every Abnegation walks past him. I would wait for him, but the crowd presses me forward, out of the stairwell and into the room where I will decide the rest of my life with my sister.

The room is arranged in concentric circles. On the edges stand the sixteen-year-olds of every faction. We are not called members yet; our decisions today will make us initiates, and will become members if we complete initiation.

We arrange ourselves in alphabetical order, according to the last names we may leave behind today. I stand between Beatrice and Toshiro Pim, an Erudite boy with a blue suit and glasses.

Rows of chairs for our families make up the next circle. They are arranged in five sections, according to faction. Not everyone in each faction comes to the Choosing Ceremony, but enough of them come that the crowd looks huge.

The responsibility to conduct the ceremony rotates from faction to faction each year, and this is Abnegation's. Marcus will give the opening address and read the names in reverse alphabetical order. Beatrice will choose after me.

In the last circle

are five metal bowls so large they could hold almost my entire body if I curled up. Each one contains a substance that represents each faction: grey stones for Abnegation, water for Erudite, earth for Amity, lit coals for Dauntless, and glass for Candor.

When Marcus calls my name, I will walk to the center of the five circles. I will not speak. He will offer me a knife. I will cut my hand and sprinkle the blood into the bowl of the faction I choose.

I have narrowed it down to three. My blood on the stones where I will be with Susan and my parents not betraying my faction. My blood sizzling on the coals where I can enjoy my life with action. Or my blood on the water so I can find out why I'm like this. I'm Divergent... The most powerful Divergent ever recorded in history.

Before my parents sit down, they stand in front of Beatrice and me. My father kisses Beatrice's forehead and claps me on the shoulder, grinning.

"See you soon." He says. His voice held no trace of doubt of me and Beatrice leaving. But I know I might not stay. Even in what be my final moments in Abnegnation I think of what my life would be with or without them. Do I want to leave them?

My mom hugs me for a long time and before she turns away she flicks one of my hairs above my ears then whispers to me: "I love you. No matter what!" then she does the same for Beatrice whispering the same thing in her ear. This is what gives me confidence about choosing to leave them.

I grabbed Beatrice's hand and squeeze it harder than I mean to. I have choosen my path. I will walk away from this bravely. Even if it means leaving my sister behind. That's why I hold her hand scared about the choice I may make in what may be our final moments together. And she doesn't let go. The last time we held hands was at my uncle's funeral, as my father cried. We need each other's strength now, just as we did then.

Marcus stands at the podium between Erudite and Dauntless and clears his throat into the microphone. A famous Erudite invented that maybe. Just a guess. I won't be able to go since I've decided on something else. My gut is yelling "CHOOSE DAUNTLESS! YOU WON'T REGRET IT!"

"Welcome," he says. "Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony. Welcome to the day we honour the democratic philosophy of our ancestors, which tells us that every man has the right to choose his own way in this world."

Or, it occurs to me, one of five predetermined ways. Beatrice starts squeezing my fingers as hard as I am squeezing hers.

"Our dependents are now sixteen. They stand on the precipice of adulthood, and it is now up to them to decide what kind of people they will be." Marcus's voice is solemn and gives equal weight to each word. "Decades ago our ancestors realized that it is not political ideology, religious belief, race, or nationalism that is to blame for a warring world. Rather, they determined that it was the fault of human personality—of humankind's inclination toward evil, in whatever form that is. They divided into factions that sought to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the world's disarray."

My eyes shift to the bowls in the center of the room. What do I believe? I do know; I do know; I do **not** know? Do I know? Maybe I do! Maybe bravery... no, Intel... no, I don't know! But I'm still choosing Dauntless.

"Those who blamed aggression formed Amity."

The Amity exchange smiles. They are dressed comfortably, in red or yellow. Every time I see them, they seem kind, loving, free. But joining them has never been an option for me.

"Those who blamed ignorance became the Erudite."  
Erudite was the only part of my choice that wasn't easy.

"Those who blamed duplicity created Candor."

I have never liked Candor.

"Those who blamed selfishness made Abnegation."

I blame selfishness; I do.

"And those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless."

But I am not selfless enough. Sixteen years of trying and I am not enough.

"Working together, these five factions have lived in peace for many years, each contributing to a different sector of society. Abnegation has fulfilled our need for selfless leaders in government; Candor has provided us with trustworthy and sound leaders in law; Erudite has supplied us with intelligent teachers and researchers; Amity has given us understanding counselors and caretakers; and Dauntless provides us with protection from threats both within and without. But the reach of each faction is not limited to these areas. We give one another far more than can be adequately summarized. In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life."

I think of the motto I read in my Faction History text-  
book: Faction before blood. More than family, our factions are where we belong. Can that possibly be right?

Marcus adds, "Apart from them, we would not survive."

The silence that follows his words is heavier than other silences. It is heavy with our worst fear, greater even than the fear of death: to be factionless.

Marcus continues, "Therefore this day marks a happy occasion—the day on which we receive our new initiates, who will work with us toward a better society and a better world." A round of applause. It sounds muffled. Marcus reads the first names.

One by one, each sixteen-year-old steps out of line and walks to the middle of the room. The first girl to choose decides on Amity, the same faction from which she came. I watch her blood droplets fall on soil, and she stands behind their seats alone.

The room is constantly moving, a new name and a new person choosing, a new knife and a new choice. I recognize most of them, but I doubt they know me.

"James Tucker," Marcus says.

James Tucker of the Dauntless is the first person to stumble on his way to the bowls. He throws his arms out and regains his balance before hitting the floor. His face turns red and he walks fast to the middle of the room. When he stands in the center, he looks from the Dauntless bowl to the Candor bowl—the orange flames that rise higher each moment, and the glass reflecting blue light.

Marcus offers him the knife. He breathes deeply—I watch his chest rise—and, as he exhales, accepts the knife. Then he drags it across his palm with a jerk and holds his arm out to the side. His blood falls onto glass, and he is the first of us to switch factions. The first faction transfer. A mutter rises from the Dauntless section, and I stare at the floor.

They will see him as a traitor from now on. His Dauntless family will have the option of visiting him in his new faction, a week and a half from now on Visiting Day, but they won't, because he left them. His absence will haunt their hallways, and he will be a space they can't fill. And then time will pass, and the hole will be gone, like when an organ is removed and the body's fluids flow into the space it leaves. Humans can't tolerate emptiness for long.

Caleb Prior," says Marcus.

I squeezes her hand one last time, and as I walk away, I cast a long look at her over my shoulder. I walk to the center of the room trying not to catch attention – Abnegation to the end - and my hands are steady as they accept the knife from Marcus. My hands are deft as I press the knife into the other hand. Then I stand with blood pooling in my palm, and my lip snags on my teeth.

I breath out. And then in. And then I hold my hand over the Dauntless bowl, and my blood drips into the coals, boiling the deep shade of red. 

I scan the crowd of the Dauntless - they are cheering and whooping. I walk over and get lots of hard smacks on the back and a band-aid.

"Excuse me," says Marcus, but the crowd doesn't hear him. He shouts, "Quiet, please!"

The room goes silent. Except for a ringing sound.

I hear Beatrice's name and a shudder propels her forward. Halfway to the bowls, she looks sure that she will choose Abnegation. I can see it now. I watch her grow into a woman in Abnegation robes, marrying Susan's brother, Robert, volunteering on the weekends, the peace of routine, the quiet nights spent in front of the fireplace, the certainty that she will be safe, and if not good enough, better than I am now.

The ringing, I realize, is in my ears.

I look at Beatrice and nod a little. She stares back at me. Her footsteps falter. Marcus offers her a knife. She looks into his eyes— I can tell from a distance they are dark blue, a strange color—and she takes it. He nods, and she turns toward the bowls. Dauntless fire and Abnegation stones are both on her left, one in front of her shoulder and one behind. She holds the knife in her right hand and touches the blade to her palm. Gritting her teeth, she drags the blade down.

She opens her eyes and thrusts her arm out. Her blood drips onto the carpet between the two bowls. Then, with a gasp she can't contain, she shifts her hand forward, and her blood sizzles on the coals.

We are selfish. We are brave.


	2. Chapter 2

Dauntless

The Train Jump

Authors Note

Anonymous Kay

 _Hey Guys... If you like this story you'll also adore "_ _ **Another Choice**_ _"_ _By:_ _OnCloudTen_ _. Please continue. I do not own Divergent –Kay? Get it. Got it. Good._

Caleb's P.O.V.

I train my eyes on the floor and stand behind the Dauntless-born initiates who chose to return to their own faction. They are all taller than I am, so even when I lift my head, I see only black-clothed shoulders. I refuse to look at my sister because even now I can feel her shocked eyes glued to me. She was probably hiding it when she got up. But now when barely anyone's looking she lets out her shock. When the last girl makes her choice—Amity—it's time to leave. The Dauntless exit first. I walk past the gray-clothed men and women who were my faction, staring determinedly at the back of someone's head and I realized I had turned back and am now staring at the back of Beatrice's head. She turns and says quietly "We need to talk!" and I nod.

But I have to see my parents one more time. I look over my shoulder at the last second before I pass them, and immediately wish I hadn't. My father's eyes burn into mine with a look of accusation. At first, when I feel the heat behind my eyes, I think he's found a way to set me on fire, to punish me for what I've done, but no—I'm about to cry.

Beside him, my mother is smiling.

The people behind me press me forward, away from my family, who will be the last ones to leave. They may even stay to stack the chairs and clean the bowls.

I glance at the boy to my left, who was Erudite and now looks as pale and nervous as I should feel. I spent all my time worrying about which faction I would choose and never considered what would happen if I chose Dauntless. What waits for me at Dauntless headquarters?

The crowd of Dauntless leading us go to the stairs instead of the elevators. I thought only the Abnegation used the stairs.

Then everyone starts running. I hear whoops and shouts and laughter all around me, and dozens of thundering feet moving at different rhythms. It is not a selfless act for the Dauntless to take the stairs; it is a wild act.

"What the hell is going on?" the boy next to me shouts at my sister.

I see her just shake her head and keep running. I am breathless when we reach the first floor, and the Dauntless burst through the exit. Outside, the air is crisp and cold and the sky is orange from the setting sun. It reflects off the black glass of the Hub.

The Dauntless sprawl across the street, blocking the path of a bus, and I sprint to catch up to the back of the crowd. My confusion dissipates as I run. I have not run anywhere in a long time. Abnegation discourages anything done strictly for my own enjoyment, and that is what this is: my lungs burning, my muscles aching, the fierce pleasure of a flat-out sprint. I follow the Dauntless down the street and around the corner and hear a familiar sound: the train horn.

"Oh no," mumbles the Erudite boy. "Are we supposed to hop on that thing?"

"Yes," Beatrice says, breathless. I would make a smart joke but I'm out of breath.

The crowd spreads out in a long line. The train glides toward us on steel rails, its light flashing, its horn blaring. The door of each car is open, waiting for the Dauntless to pile in, and they do, group by group, until only the new initiates are left. The Dauntless-born initiates are used to doing this by now, so in a second it's just faction transfers left.

I step forward with a few others and start jogging. We run with the car for a few steps and then throw ourselves sideways. I pull myself into the car. As I do so I look in front of me seeing a Candor girl grab Beatrice and pull her in. And in I go.

I hear a shout and look over my shoulder. A short Erudite boy with red hair pumps his arms as he tries to catch up to the train. An Erudite girl by the door reaches out to grab the boy's hand, straining, but he is too far behind. He falls to his knees next to the tracks as we sail away, and puts his head in his hands.

I feel uneasy. He just failed Dauntless initiation. He is factionless now. It could happen at any moment.

"You all right?" the Candor girl who helped Beatrice asks her briskly. She is tall, with dark brown skin and short hair. Pretty.

Beatrice nods.

"I'm Christina," she says, offering Beatrice her hand.

She hasn't shaken a hand in a long time either. The Abnegation greeted one another by bowing heads, a sign of respect. She takes her hand, uncertainly, and shakes it twice, hoping I didn't squeeze too hard or not hard enough.

"Beatrice," She says.

I walk over to them. I hold my hand out to Christina. She takes it and shakes twice firmly. "Caleb... Beatrice's sister!" I say over the wind. "Thank you for saving my sister from falling out of the train."

"Do you know where we're going?" She has to shout over the wind, which blows harder through the open doors by the second. The train is picking up speed. I sit down. It will be easier to keep my balance if I'm low to the ground. She raises an eyebrow at me.

"A fast train means wind," Beatrice says. "Wind means falling out. Get down."

I sit next to Beatrice and Christina sits next to me, inching back to lean against the wall.

"I guess we're going to Dauntless headquarters," Beatrice says, "but I don't know where that is."

"Does anyone?" She shakes her head, grinning. "It's like they just popped out of a hole in the ground or something."

Then the wind rushes through the car, and the other faction transfers, hit with bursts of air, fall on top of one another. I watch Christina laugh without hearing her and see Beatrice a smile.

Over my left shoulder, orange light from the setting sun reflects off the glass buildings, and I can faintly see the rows of gray houses that used to be my home.

It's my turn to make dinner tonight. Who will take my place—my mother or my father? And when they clear out my room, what will they discover? Did I always know that I would choose Dauntless? And if I did, did I not notice?

I close my eyes and picture my mother and father sitting at the dinner table in silence. Is it a lingering hint of selflessness that makes my throat tighten at the thought of them, or is it selfishness, because I know I will never be their son again?

\+ + +

"They're jumping off!"

I lift my head. My neck aches. I have been curled up with my back against the wall for at least a half hour, listening to the roaring wind and watching the city smear past us. I sit forward. The train has slowed down in the past few minutes, and I see that the boy who shouted is right: The Dauntless in the cars ahead of us are jumping out as the train passes a rooftop. The tracks are seven stories up.

The idea of leaping out of a moving train onto a rooftop, knowing there is a gap between the edge of the roof and the edge of the track, makes me want to puke. I push myself up and stumble to the opposite side of the car, where the other faction transfers stand in a line. I stand right after Christina and Beatrice.

"We have to jump off too, then," a Candor girl says. She has a large nose and crooked teeth.

"Great," a Candor boy replies, "because that makes perfect sense, Molly. Leap off a train onto a roof."

"This is kind of what we signed up for, Peter," the girl points out.

"Well, I'm not doing it," says an Amity boy behind me. He has olive skin and wears a brown shirt—he is the only transfer from Amity. His cheeks shine with tears.

"You've got to," Christina says, "or you fail. Come on, it'll be all right."

"No, it won't! I'd rather be factionless than dead!" The Amity boy shakes his head. He sounds panicky. He keeps shaking his head and staring at the rooftop, which is getting closer by the second.

I definitely agree with him. I would rather be empty than dead.

"You can't force him," Beatrice says, glancing at Christina. Her brown eyes are wide, and she presses her lips together so hard they change color. She offers Beatrice her hand. I during all this can barely talk and probably won't be talking for a while. I'm too shocked and scared.

"Here," she says. Beatrice raise an eyebrow at her hand, about, but she adds, "I just . . . can't do it unless someone drags me."

Beatrice takes her hand and they stand at the edge of the car. As it passes the roof, she count, "One . . . two . . . three!" as I go to a different door and on three I launch off the train car at the same time as them.

A weightless moment, and then my feet slam into solid ground and pain prickles through my shins. The jarring landing sends me sprawling on the rooftop. I turn and I see Beatrice release Christina's hand. She's laughing. I can only tell what I'm doing since I am practically speechless. I can tell I'm watching over Beatrice as her older brother.

"That was fun," Christina says.

Christina will fit in with Dauntless thrill seekers. I see Beatrice brush grains of rock from her cheek. All the initiates except the Amity boy made it onto the roof, with varying levels of success. The Candor girl with crooked teeth, Molly, holds her ankle, wincing, and Peter, the Candor boy with shiny hair, grins proudly—he must have landed on his feet.

Then I hear a wail. I tune it out of my head, while Beatrice Goes toward it. Beatrice comes toward me.

"My elbow stings." She says. She pulls up her sleeve up to examine it, her hand shaking. Some of the skin is peeling off, but it isn't bleeding.

"Ooh. *Scandalous*! A Stiff's flashing some skin!"

I lift my head. "Stiff" is slang for Abnegation. Peter points at Beatrice, smirking. I hear laughter. Beatrice cheeks heat up, and she lets her sleeves fall.

"Bug off 'El Dorko' or at least shut your mouth so no flies fly in!" I yell at him. I reach into my pocket and grab a first aid kit. At least my body realized I was going to choose dauntless. I had stuffed my pockets with medical supplies before I left. I pull out a sterile band aid.

I pass her the band aid. "Here you go Beatrice!" I say. She pulls up her sleeve again and puts it on gently.

"Listen up! My name is Max! I am one of the leaders of your new faction!" shouts a man at the other end of the roof. He is older than the others, with deep creases in his dark skin and gray hair at his temples, and he stands on the ledge like it's a sidewalk. Like someone didn't just fall to her death from it. "Several stories below us is the members' entrance to our compound. If you can't muster the will to jump off, you don't belong here. Our initiates have the privilege of going first."

"You want us to jump off a ledge?" asks an Erudite girl. She is a few inches taller than I am, with mousy brown hair and big lips. Her mouth hangs open.

I don't know why it shocks her.

"Yes," Max says. He looks amused.

"Is there water at the bottom or something?"

"Who knows?" He raises his eyebrows.

The crowd in front of the initiates splits in half, making a wide path for us. I look around. No one looks eager to leap off the building—their eyes are everywhere but on Max. Some of them nurse minor wounds or brush gravel from their clothes. I glance at Peter. He is picking at one of his cuticles. Trying to act casual.

I see Beatrice walk toward the ledge and hear snickers at her.

Max steps aside, leaving her way clear. She walks up to the edge and look down. Wind whips through her clothes, making the fabric snap. The building I'm on forms one side of a square with three other buildings.

She steps onto the ledge. I can hear her teeth chatter. I know she won't back down now. Not with all the people betting she'll fail behind her. Her hands fumble along the collar of her shirt and find the button that secures it shut. After a few tries, she undos the hooks from collar to hem, and pulls it off her shoulders.

Beneath it, she wears a gray T-shirt. I've never seen her in it before. she balls up my outer shirt and look over her shoulder, at Peter. She throws the ball of fabric at him. It hits him in the chest. He stares at her. I hear catcalls and shouts at her. She must of been still angry at him.

She looks at the hole again. She bends her knees and jumps.

I hear a "First jumper—Tris!" from the bottom of the hole.

"Let her 'Bro Boy' follow her down!" I hear from Peter. Then Max looks at me. "Do you accept his challenge?" Max asks. I stand tall and say "Yes!"

Max steps aside, leaving my way clear. I walk up to the edge and know not to look down but just jump. I don't think. I just bend my knees and jump.

The air howls in my ears as the ground surges toward me, growing and expanding, or I surge toward the ground, my heart pounding so fast it hurts, every muscle in my body tensing as the falling sensation drags at my stomach. The hole surrounds me and I drop into darkness.

I hit something hard. It gives way beneath me and cradles my body. The impact knocks the wind out of me and I wheeze, struggling to breathe again. My arms and legs sting.

A net. There is a net at the bottom of the hole. I look up at the building and laugh, half relieved and half hysterical. My body shakes and I cover my face with my hands. I just jumped off a roof.

I have to stand on solid ground again. I jump out onto the ground and see something.

I see a boy with her hands on my sisters back saying, "Welcome to Dauntless."

Then another person lands into the net. It's Christina. Her screams follow her down. Christina. Everyone laughs, but they follow their laughter with more cheering.

I stare the boy down. I am going to teach him a lesson real soon about what will happen if he makes a wrong move around her. Real soon indeed.

Top of Form


	3. Chapter 3

**Initiation Rules**

 **Chapter 3**

Caleb P.O.V.

When all the Initiates stand on solid ground again, Lauren and Four lead us down a narrow tunnel. The walls are made of stone, and the ceiling slopes, so I feel like I am descending deep into the heart of the earth. The tunnel is lit at long intervals, so in the dark space between each dim lamp, I fear that I am lost. Then I see there's light. In the circles of light I am safe again. The whole crowd stops, and our three leaders stand in front of us, arms folded. "This is where we divide," Lauren says. "The Dauntless-born initiates are with me. I assume you don't need a tour of the place."

She smiles and beckons toward the Dauntless-born initiates. They break away from the group and dissolve into the shadows. I watch the last heel pass out of the light and look at those of us who are left. Most of the initiates were from Dauntless, so only ten people remain. Of those, I am the one of the only Abnegation transfers, and there are no Amity transfers. The rest are from Erudite and, surprisingly, Candor. It must require bravery to be honest all the time. I wouldn't know.

Four addresses us next. "Most of the time I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor," he says. "My name is Four."

Christina asks, "Four? Like the number?"

"Yes," Four says. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Good. We're go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It—"

Christina snickers. "The Pit? Clever name." Four walks up to Christina and leans his face close to hers. His eyes narrow, and for a second he just stares at her.

"What's your name?" he asks quietly.

"Christina," she squeaks.

"Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction," he hisses. "The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?" She nods. Four starts toward the shadow at the end of the tunnel. The crowd of initiates moves on in silence.

"What a jerk," she mumbles.

"I guess he doesn't like to be laughed at," I hear Tris reply. I see that she's right beside her a walk and join her.

"Hi, Caleb!" She whispers.

It would probably be wise to be careful around Four, I realize. He seemed placid to me on the platform, but something about that stillness makes me wary now. Four pushes a set of double doors open, and we walk into the place he called "the Pit."

"Oh," whispers Christina. "I get it." "Pit" is the best word for it. It is an underground cavern so huge I can't see the other end of it from where I stand, at the bottom.

Uneven rock walls rise several stories above my head. Built into the stone walls are places for food, clothing, supplies, and leisure activities. Narrow paths and steps carved from rock connect them. There are no barriers to keep people from falling over the side. A slant of orange light stretches across one of the rock walls. Forming the roof of the Pit are panes of glass and, above them, a building that lets in sunlight. It must have looked like just another city building when we passed it on the train. Blue lanterns dangle at random intervals above the stone paths, similar to the ones that lit the Choosing room. They grow brighter as the sunlight dies. People are everywhere, all dressed in black, all shouting and talking, expressive, gesturing. I don't see any elderly people in the crowd. Are there any old Dauntless? Do they not last that long, or are they just sent away when they can't jump off moving trains anymore? A group of children run down a narrow path with no railing, so fast my heart pounds, and I want to scream at them to slow down before they get hurt. A memory of the orderly Abnegation streets appears in my mind: a line of people on the right passing a line of people on the left, small smiles and inclined heads and silence. My stomach squeezes. But there is something wonderful about Dauntless chaos. "If you follow me," says Four, "I'll show you the chasm." He waves us forward. Four's appearance seems tame from the front, by Dauntless standards, but when he turns around, I see a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his T-shirt.

He leads us to the right side of the Pit, which is conspicuously dark. I squint and see that the floor I stand on now ends at an iron barrier. As we approach the railing, I hear a roar—water, fast-moving water, crashing against rocks. I look over the side. The floor drops off at a sharp angle, and several stories below us is a river. Gushing water strikes the wall beneath me and sprays upward. To my left, the water is calmer, but to my right, it is white, battling with rock. "The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" Four shouts. "A daredevil jump off this ledge will end your life. It has happened before and it will happen again. You've been warned."

"This is incredible," says Christina, as we all move away from the railing.

"Incredible is the word," Tris says, nodding. Four leads the group of initiates across the Pit toward a gaping hole in the wall.

The room beyond is well-lit enough that I can see where we're going: a dining hall full of people and clattering silverware. When we walk in, the Dauntless inside stand. They applaud. They stamp their feet. They shout. The noise surrounds me and fills me. Christina smiles, and a second later, so do I. We look for empty seats. Christina and I discover a mostly empty table at the side of the room, and I find myself sitting between her and Four.

In the center of the table is a platter of food I don't recognize (and Tris too as I see): circular pieces of meat wedged between round bread slices. She pinches one between her fingers, unsure what to make of it. Four nudges Tris with his elbow. "It's beef," he says. "Put this on it." He passes me a small bowl full of red sauce. "You've never had a hamburger before?" asks Christina, her eyes wide.

"No," Tris says. "Is that what it's called?"

"Stiffs eat plain food," Four says, nodding at Christina.

"Why?" she asks.

I shrug. "Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary."

She smirks. "No wonder you left."

"Yeah," I say, rolling my eyes. "It was just because of the food."

I'm silent. I'm too shocked at me choosing Dauntless to speak. Christina sounds like a nice girl though.

The corner of Four's mouth twitches. The doors to the cafeteria open, and a hush falls over the room. I look over my shoulder. A young man walks in, and it is quiet enough that I can hear his footsteps. His face is pierced in so many places I lose count, and his hair is long, dark, and greasy. But that isn't what makes him look menacing. It is the coldness of his eyes as they sweep across the room.

"Who's that?" hisses Christina.

"His name is Eric," says Four. "He's a Dauntless leader"

"Seriously? But he's so young."

Four gives her a grave look. "Age doesn't matter here." I can tell she's about to ask what I want to ask: Then what does matter? But Eric's eyes stop scanning the room, and he starts toward a table. He starts toward our table and drops into the seat next to Four. He offers no greeting, so neither do we.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" he asks, nodding to Christina and me. Four says,

"This is Tris, Christina and Caleb." "Ooh, two Stiffs," says Eric, smirking at me and Tris. His smile pulls at the piercings in his lips, making the holes they occupy wider, and I wince.

We'll see how long you last." I mean to say something—to assure him that I will last, maybe—but words fail me. I don't understand why, but I don't want Eric to look at me any longer than he already has.

I don't want him to look at me ever again. He taps his fingers against the table. His knuckles are scabbed over, right where they would split if he punched something too hard. "What have you been doing lately, Four?" he asks. Four lifts a shoulder.

"Nothing, really," he says. Are they friends? My eyes flick between Eric and Four. Everything Eric did—sitting here, asking about Four—suggests that they are, but the way Four sits, tense as pulled wire, suggests they are something else. Rivals, maybe, but how could that be, if Eric is a leader and Four is not?

"Max tellls me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don't show up," Eric says. "He requested that I find out what's going on with you." Four looks at Eric for a few seconds before saying,

"Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold."

"So he wants to give you a job." The rings in Eric's eyebrow catch the light. Maybe Eric perceives Four as a potential threat to his position. My father says that those who want power and get it live in terror of losing it. That's why we have to give power to those who do not want it.

"So it would seem," Four says.

"And you aren't interested."

"I haven't been interested for two years."

"Well," says Eric. "Let's hope he gets the point then." He claps Four on the shoulder, a little too hard, and gets up.

When he walks away, I slouch immediately. I had not realized that I was so tense. "Are you two…friends?" Tris says, unable to contain my curiosity.

"We were in the same initiate class," he says. "He transferred from Erudite." All thoughts of being careful around Four leave me.

"Were you a transfer too?"

"I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions," he says coldly. "Now I've got Stiffs, too?"

"It must be because you're so approachable," Tris says flatly. "You know. Like a bed of nails." He stares at me, and I don't look away. He isn't a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It's my choice. Heat rushes into my cheeks. What will happen when this tension breaks?

But he just says, "Careful, Tris." My stomach drops like I just swallowed a stone. A Dauntless member to another table calls out Four's name, and I turn to Christina. She raises both eyebrows.

"What?" Tris asks. I stare at her shocked.

"I'm developing a theory."

"And it is?"

She picks up her hamburger, grins, and says, "That you have a death wish."

After dinner, Four disappears without a word. Eric leads us down a series of hall ways without telling us where we're going. I don't know why a Dauntless leader would be responsible for a group of initiates, but maybe it is just for tonight. At the end of each hallway is a blue lamp, but between them it's dark, and I have to be careful not to stumble over uneven ground. Christina walks beside me in silence. No one told us to be quiet, but none of us speak. Eric stops in front of a wooden door and folds his arms. We gather around him. "For those of you who don't know, my name is Eric," he says. "I am one of five leaders of the Dauntless. We take the initiation process very seriously here, so I volunteered to oversee most of your training." The thought makes me nauseous. The idea that a Dauntless leader will oversee our initiation is bad enough, but the fact that it's Eric makes it seem even worse. "Some ground rules," he says. "You have to be in the training room by eight o'clock every day. Training takes place every day from eight to six, with a break for lunch. You are free to do whatever you like after six. You will also get some time off between each stage of initiation." The phrase "do whatever you like" sticks in my mind. At home, I could never do what I wanted, not even for an evening.

I had to think of other people's needs first. I don't even know what I like to do. "You are only permitted to leave the compound when accompanied by a Dauntless," Eric adds. "Behind this door is the room where you will be sleeping for the next few weeks. You will notice that there are exactly ten beds. But I'm shocked you all made it here unharmed."

"But we started with thirteen," protests Christina. I close my eyes and wait for the reprimand. She needs to learn to stay quiet.

"There is always at least one transfer who doesn't make it to the compound," says Eric, picking at his cuticles. He shrugs. "Anyway, in the first stage of initiation, we keep transfers and Dauntless-born initiates separate, but that doesn't mean you are evaluated separately. At the end of initiation, your rankings will be determined in comparison with the Dauntless-born initiates. And they are better than you are already. So I expect—"

"Rankings?" asks the mousy-haired Erudite girl to my right. "Why are we ranked?"

Eric smiles, and in the blue light, his smile looks wicked, like it was cut into his face with a knife. "Your ranking serves two purposes," he says. "The first is that it determines the order in which you will select a job after initiation. There are only a few desirable positions available." My stomach tightens. I know by looking at his smile, like I knew the second I entered the aptitude test room, that something bad is about to happen. "The second purpose," he says, "is that only the top ten initiates are made members." Pain stabs my stomach. We all stand still as statues. And then Christina says,

"What?"

"There are eleven Dauntless-borns, and ten of you," Eric continues. "Four initiates will be cut at the end of stage one. The remainder will be cut after the final test." That means that even if we make it through each stage of initiation, seven initiates will not be members. I see Christina look at me from the corner of my eye, but I can't look back at her. My eyes are fixed on Eric and will not move. My odds, as the smallest initiate, as one of the only Abnegation transfer, are not good.

"What do we do if we're cut?" Peter says.

"You leave the Dauntless compound," says Eric indifferently, "and live factionless." The mousy-haired girl clamps her hand over her mouth and stifles a sob. I remember the factionless man with the gray teeth, snatching the bag of apples from my hands. His dull, staring eyes. But instead of crying, like the Erudite girl, I feel colder. Harder. I will be a member. I will.

"But that's…not fair!" the broad-shouldered Candor girl, Molly, says. Even though she sounds angry, she looks terrified. "If we had known—"

"Are you saying that if you had known this before the Choosing Ceremony, you wouldn't have chosen Dauntless?" Eric snaps. "Because if that's the case, you should get out now. If you are really one of us, it won't matter to you that you might fail. And if it does, you are a coward." Eric pus hes the door to the dormitory open. "You chose us," he says. "Now we have to choose you."

I lie in bed and listen to ten people breathing. I have never slept in the same room as a girl before, but here I have no other option, unless I want to sleep in the hallway. Everyone else changed into the clothes the Dauntless provided for us, but I sleep in my Abnegation clothes, which still smell like soap and fresh air, like home. I used to have my own room. I could see the front lawn from the window, and beyond it, the foggy skyline. I am used to sleeping in silence. Heat swells behind my eyes as I think of home, and when I blink, a tear slips out. I cover my mouth to stifle a sob. I can't cry, not here. I close my eyes and drift to sleep.


End file.
